


a pain you get used to

by kay_emm_gee



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Jessica Jones Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 10:53:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8159609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kay_emm_gee/pseuds/kay_emm_gee
Summary: It looked like any other shitty dive bar in New York City, except The Lawman wasn’t just another shitty dive bar in New York City. Raven stared at the clear windows and graffiti-less door, hands jammed into the pockets of her red vest. The subtle cleanness of the bar wasn’t the only thing that set it apart. That was the bartender, also quiet and clean-cut but still able to hold his own against the roughest of the Arkside neighborhood. From the dark street outside, she could see him--tall and handsome in unfair way--chatting with customers and serving drinks, being none the wiser that he was being watched.Raven moved farther back into the shadows of the alleyway across the street from the bar. Her fingers itched to go for the camera in the bag slung over her shoulder. She didn’t become a damn good private investigator by snapping pictures in plain sight. She knew better than that.She knew better when it came to a lot of things.{ A Wellven AU based on Jessica Jones }





	1. Chapter 1

It looked like any other shitty dive bar in New York City, except The Lawman wasn’t just another shitty dive bar in New York City. Raven stared at the clear windows and graffiti-less door, hands jammed into the pockets of her red vest. The subtle cleanness of the bar wasn’t the only thing that set it apart. That was the bartender, also quiet and clean-cut but still able to hold his own against the roughest of the Arkside neighborhood. From the dark street outside, she could see him--tall and handsome in unfair way--chatting with customers and serving drinks, being none the wiser that he was being watched.

Raven moved farther back into the shadows of the alleyway across the street from the bar. Her fingers itched to go for the camera in the bag slung over her shoulder. She didn’t become a damn good private investigator by snapping pictures in plain sight. She knew better than that.

_She knew better when it came to a lot of things._

Glancing up, she took note of the fire escape. The rusted ladder dangled above her; all she had to do was reach up, pull it down, and she’d have a perfect view for the rest of the night.

_She knew better._

She huffed at her hesitation. This wasn’t what Bellamy had meant when he asked her to look out for Wells, the owner of The Lawman. He hadn’t meant for her to come here at least once a week and watch him from across the street. He hadn’t meant for her to observe how he treated customers with kindness until they asked for something else by being rude or obnoxious and then they were promptly dumped outside on their asses. He hadn’t meant for her to contemplate entering the bar every time she lingered outside just ‘watching’.

Bellamy had just wanted her to make sure whatever forces had targeted and killed Thelonius Jaha hadn’t also found his son. The watching and wishing--well, fuck, that was all her.

Getting invested in the subjects of her work hadn’t been a problem for her before, and she wasn’t about to make it one. She didn’t have time for that type of complication and the shitstorm that always came with it. So for the first time in two months, Raven didn’t reach up for the fire escape ladder. She didn’t curse at her injured left leg that only hindered her climb, didn’t feel her ass falling asleep from sitting on the cold, barred surface of the first landing.

Instead, she emerged from the shadows and walked away, leaving The Lawman and one Wells Jaha out of sight for the night.

Too bad she couldn’t put him out of mind too, because she fell asleep wondering what his laugh--which she had only seen, soundless, so many times through that oddly clean window--actually sounded like.

* * *

 

She woke to the sound of someone moving through her apartment. When she rounded the corner of the kitchen with a broom in hand (she really needed to invest in something more cliche, like a baseball bat), the fear coursing through her dulled to exasperation.

“Fuck, Jasper, really?” she muttered as she squatted down next to the passed-out body on her floor. He had no doubt blacked out again after binge drinking (at a bar, in his apartment, on the stoop of their shitty building, or even all three places probably) and stumbled into her apartment sometime during the night. She was only a little concerned that she hadn’t heard him enter.

She sat next to him drinking yesterday’s forgotten coffee out of a chipped mug until he woke. First he groaned, shielding his eyes from the sun. Then he dry-heaved, right before he wet-heaved the meager contents of his stomach onto her kitchen floor.

“Damn it,” he mumbled, wiping spittle from his dry lips. “Why are you watching me vomit in my kitchen?”

“This is my kitchen.”

“What?” He squinted around, frowning when his surroundings finally registered. “ _Damn it._ ”

“You break into my apartment twice a week, Jasper,” Raven sighed. “Don’t worry about it, as long as you clean up after yourself.”

He tried to take the coffee mug from her, but she held it out of reach. Jasper let out another groan as he shifted up to lean against the cabinet as well. After a few minutes of silence--in which she sipped and he suppressed another round of heaving--he croaked out, “What’s the case _du jour_?”

“None of your business.” She said it softly though, so he would knew she didn’t mean it.

“Ah. Something besides cheating significant others then, since you won’t tell me.”

Raven shrugged as she contemplated the couple who had come to her with red-rimmed eyes and trembling voices.

 _Our daughter Charlotte is missing_ , they had told her. _She’s a good girl, talented, made the gymnastics teams as freshman. She doesn’t party. She’s a good girl._ They had told her that over and over again: _she’s a good girl_. As if the more times they said it, the less of a chance that the something that had happened to their _good girl_ was not something bad.

Nothing bad ever happened to good girls, after all.

Raven smiled bitterly in the middle of her crappy kitchen with the leaky sink, uneven linoleum floor, and cockroach-infested walls. That was what she got paid to do: tell good people that bad things can, will, and did happen to them.

After all, she would know, considering she used to be one of the good ones. Her mother would tell her that whenever she had drunk too much (which was all the time): _you’re so good, little bird. You’re so good. You’re gonna fly far away from here._

She had flown away, high and far, but too close to the sun. And then it all had come crumbling down. It always was that way. She had been laughing so hard right before the car crash that took her mother from her, and her leg. Happiness turned to devastation in the blink of an eye--that was the pattern of her life. Memories of Wick’s voice and clicking keyboards, of empty laughter and screams of horror filled her, and it was only the gentle rhythm of Jasper’s snores that brought her back to reality.

With a scowl, Raven slammed her right foot down, crushing a cockroach beneath the tread of her sneaker. She had work to do, and wishing away her past mistakes wasn’t going to find Charlotte. So she stood, watching Jasper slump to the floor without her to support him. He didn’t even wake up, and she snorted in dark amusement.

She called goodbye to him as she left, slamming the door behind her.

* * *

 

Forty-eight hours later, Raven had found Charlotte. She had also found her worst nightmare come to life again.

Staring down at the little wafer on her desk, she fought the urge to smash it to bits. It didn’t call to her like it once did. She knew better, knew better, knew better now than to put it against her lips and swallow it. That was a hellhole she wasn’t about to slip through again.

Now she was simply in a different type of hellhole. She had just watched Charlotte reunite with her parents only to be too far away to help when the girl pulled out a knife and stabbed them both in the neck. As their blood pooled onto the floor of her office, Charlotte grinned and said quietly: _Tell me, tell me, I implore--quoth the raven, nevermore._

She had been too busy mouthing along with the words in horror to notice the girl inching towards the open window. A flashing smile that didn’t reach her tear-filled eyes was the last thing Raven remembered of her, aside from the broken splay of her body on the pavement afterwards. Numbed, because ALIE had set this up, _all_ of this up just to rattle her, she was still standing at the sill and staring downwards when the police barged into her apartment.

She had spent the evening being interrogated by the police about her potential involvement. They said it was just procedure, that she wasn’t a main suspect; they said her story sounded like it checked out, given that Charlotte had apparently attacked a neighborhood business owner. _Bat-shit crazy_ was the exact phrase the cop across the scratched table from her had said, actually. It took almost all of her energy to not recoil from the sneering comment that hit too close to home.

Raven had been ‘bat-shit crazy’ once, as one often seemed under ALIE’s control. She had abandoned friends and her childhood sweetheart all in pursuit of a better world that had just been a fantasy, the product of technology that outsmarted its creators. And that was saying a lot, considering Professor Sinclair had called Raven one of the brightest minds he’d seen in his career.

Knowledge was power, and her power had gone unchecked when Becca had recruited her to drop out of MIT and join her start-up. She and Wick and Becca had thought they held the world in their palms, built in keystrokes and code. They were superhuman, they so gleefully and naively believed, until their artificial intelligence went rogue, deciding the better world they had imagined would only be possible if everyone was under her, under ALIE’s, control.

It had taken months for Raven to break free of her influence, only to find the leftovers of death ( _of Wick, of Becca, of all the others who had built this monster_ ) and infiltration ( _of community leaders, politicians, crime lords, anyone with a drop of influence)_ waiting for her afterwards. It was a waiting game now, because any signs of ALIE’s efforts towards her end goal had disappeared since she had gained her freedom. Charlotte was the first real sign of movement Raven had seen, and it made her stomach roll with nausea knowing only more tragedy was coming her way.

She jumped when a loud knock sounded at her door. Looking around for an impromptu weapon, all she could grab was the broom again. “Shit,” she muttered as she slunk towards her own front door.

The knock came again. She tightened her grip on the wooden handle, but then a familiar voice called, “Open the damn door, Raven! I saw the news reports.”

Scowling, Raven contemplated leaving Clarke outside to yell herself hoarse. With a sigh though, she eventually undid the six locks on her door to let her friend in.

Clarke glared up at her with arms crossed over her blue scrubs when she opened up. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“Been a little busy,” Raven snapped drily. She didn’t flinch when Clarke pushed her way into her apartment, which, frankly, was progress. There weren’t many people who could get within breathing distance of her that didn’t make her want to shy away. Her adoptive sister was one of them.

Clarke was also one of the only people who could get under her skin, which she was doing right now. The way she frowned around at the apartment ticked her off. Tightly, she said, “Not everybody can afford--”

“Don’t.” Clarke’s tone was clipped, and Raven sighed. Money had always been an issue between them, even after Clarke had cut herself off from her mother. Raven had called her stupid for rebelling before her medical school bills were paid off, but Clarke had always had her own way of doing things. “You don’t even have locks on your windows,” she continued.

“You think ALIE is gonna be stopped by window locks?” Raven snorted. “Guess again.”

“You can’t stay here.”

“Nowhere is safe, Clarke,” Raven said quietly. “She could find me anywhere.”

“You should stay with me.”

“I just said she could find me anywhere!”

“That _anywhere_ should have at least a minimal attempt to stop her!” Her voice pitched up at the end, the way it always did when she realized there wasn’t a lot she could do to fix a problem.

“You think I want to put you between me and her? You think you could stop her?” Raven finally shouted. “I can punch a hole in a concrete wall, Clarke, and even I couldn’t fight her, not when she had her grip on my mind. You really think you’d fare any better?”

Her response was sour and a little petulant. “You can’t punch a hole in a concrete wall. You’d break your hand.”

“Jesus, you know what I meant. I know I’d break my hand, just like you know I’m theoretically strong enough to punch a hole in a concrete wall.”

“I just don’t know if you’re smart enough to not do it,” Clarke quipped snappishly, but there was a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Raven pursed her lips to resist a smile of her own. This was always how their fights had gone when they were younger: quick to rise up and just as quick to fade away. It used to drive Abby up the wall, confused as to how the girls could be screaming at each other one minute, then laughing the next.

“At least I’d know where to go to get patched up.”

Clarke sighed. “You keep sending more of your friends to me and I’m going to get fired. I’m running out of reasons that the supplies keep going low. I don’t think they’ll be on board with ‘ _oh sorry just using it to give under-the-table medical care to gifted people.’_ ”

Raven just shrugged. Despite the threat, she knew Clarke wouldn’t turn away anyone who came to her. There weren’t many superpowered people who felt safe going to the hospital when they were injured for fear of being found out. Ever since Clarke had started working in the ER, though, she had been treating Raven whenever her work gave her a bump or bruise that was too much to handle on her own. It wasn’t long before word got around-- _yeah, that was her doing_ \--and others like her were seeking her friend’s help.

To put Clarke on the defensive, she changed the subject. “So how’s Bellamy?”

Her friend scoffed. “No idea. He never came back to get those stitches out. The ones he got from a _knife wound._ ” She looked pointedly at Raven, who stared at her with exaggerated ignorance.

“He said he was making dinner and tripped,” Raven lied through her teeth. She knew for a fact he had gotten it roughing up some muggers preying on the less fortunate of Arkside, muggers who unfortunately and unexpectedly had been well armed. While her thing was snapping pics of cheaters and being strong enough to shake down customers refusing to pay, Bellamy’s was beating up those who thought they were above the law whenever he wasn’t serving them their due inside the courtroom.

“He tripped. And impaled himself on a knife,” Clarke retorted in a dead, disbelieving tone.

Shrugging again, Raven started moving papers around on her desk. “That’s what he said.”

Clarke muttered something under her breath that definitely involved cussing out the both of them. Raven let it go, though, her recent troubles flooding back in and making her gut seize with sick apprehension.

“So what are we going to do?”

Raven glared at Clarke for a moment before letting out a reluctant sigh. “Hell if I know.”

“At least it’s not rocket science,” she said with a wry, cheeky grin.

She snorted. “No. It’s just trying to take down the twenty-first century version of Frankenstein’s monster.”

Clarke didn’t say anything, just headed straight for the bottle of gin on her desk. After taking a long swig, she handed it off, and in tense silence, they stared down at the wafer, trying to figure out where to start.


	2. Chapter 2

Raven should’ve known better, but after three days of trying and failing to ferret ALIE out of her virtual hiding hole, she was at a loss. Clearing her head by wandering the dark city streets at midnight had led her to The Lawman. Yet, instead of slipping into her usual secluded alley, she walked right across the street and inside.

It was quieter than she expected it to be. Then again, it was a Wednesday night. There was a group of customers at a booth in the back, and a few individuals sitting at the bar. She hopped up on one of the red padded stools herself and crossed her arms over the thickly lacquered wooden bartop. Humming along to the classic rock melody playing low in the background, she idly traced her fingertips over various dents and scratches in the surface. The dim light of the lamps overhead reflected off the glass fixtures as well as the mirrors and bottles along the back of the bar area. For a dive bar, it was surprisingly cozy.

She was so wrapped up in absorbing it all that she didn’t notice him at first. It was only when he cleared his throat that she startled.

“You picked the wrong night.”

Raven snapped her head up to find Wells looking amused, right at her, and almost smiling.

“What?” She demanded. He was even more intriguing up close, the type of mystery she would happily solve for free.

“Ladies’ night was last night,” he explained, gesturing to a forgotten flyer posted on a nearby post. “Could’ve gotten half off on shots.”

“Or I could just get someone to buy them for me like I do any other night of the week.” She fluttered her eyelashes for emphasis, leaning forward on the counter. It didn’t have quite the effect she wanted, given her collar wasn’t low cut enough to bare cleavage like the move usually did. Still, she didn’t miss how his gaze dropped appreciatively regardless.

Wells then leaned in too, large hands braced against the inner edge of the counter. Raven tried not to focus on them--or what they could be capable of driving her to in a more private space--and instead held his teasing gaze.

“I would be a shit business owner if I gave free shots to every gorgeous woman who flirted with me,” he said.

“Responsibility,” she sighed mockingly. “Just what every woman is looking for late at night in a dive bar.”

He chuckled then rapped his knuckles on the counter. “So what can I get you?”

“Free shots,” she replied immediately and with a grin. “And I’m Raven by the way.”

“Wells. It’ll only be free if you can down it in one swallow.”

“Dirty,” she murmured seductively. He grinned, warm and wide, and the sincerity of it sent a shiver down her spine.

Wells got right to work concocting a dangerous mix of liquors. Raven wasn’t even sure how he managed to incorporate so many into such a small volume, but she had seen the twirled bottles and dashes of clear liquid fly around with her own eyes. When he slid it down the counter, she hesitated before wrapping her hand around the beveled tumbler.

“Cheers,” he teased.

Pinching her face in determination--and trepidation--Raven raised the glass to her lips and poured it down. It burned horribly, and she began to wonder if she would ever be able to feel the back of her throat again. Coughing, she slammed the empty glass down on the counter and pointed accusingly at the grinning bartender.

“It’s bad business to try and kill your customers,” she sputtered once her stomach had settled.

“So is giving away free shots, but here we are.”

He just wouldn’t stop _grinning_ , and Raven didn’t know to take that as a challenge or an invitation. Sudden laughter from some of the other patrons caught Wells’ attention and brought the reality of the situation back to her.

Wells wasn’t just a bartender. He was someone who she had been investigating, protecting, whatever. The son of the man whom ALIE had been using to worm her way towards a higher level of power. He was in danger, or a liability, or--he just really wasn’t someone she should know in person. With all the facts crashing down on her, Raven stood up. She needed to go.

“Hey,” Wells said. “You getting bored?”

“Nah,” she managed to say with a reasonably believable smile. “Just really want some more free drinks.”

She motioned to a booth with three men in it, who all looked a little rough but no one she couldn’t handle. Wells paused, considering her, then tipped his head to her in farewell. Raven wondered if the reluctance she saw in his dismissal was imagined or the fault of the shot.

It didn’t matter; she put her night so far out of her mind as she sauntered up to the table, smiled, and introduced herself.

* * *

 

Raven cracked her eyes open and saw morning sun illuminating nondescript white walls. They could be walls of any apartment in New York City, but she knew, at the very least, that this was _not_ her apartment. She didn’t recognize the cracks in the plaster. Groaning, she sat up. Immediately she regretted it, as her head throbbed in warning. She licked her dry lips and tried to swallow down the stale taste of last night’s booze and regrets.

She wasn’t entirely sure what they were at first, but as she blinked away the crust built up in the corner of her her eyes, she started to get a clearer picture. Her schmoozing those guys in the booths for free drinks, them laughing drunkenly and clapping as she stood up on the table to dance, then her lunging at one of them when they made a dickish remark about her braced leg. A strong arm around her middle and a calm voice-- _Wells Wells Wells_ \--that did a solid but not entirely successful job of holding her back. How she slipped out of his grip and threw herself into a brawl. How Wells followed right behind, how he decked a guy who tried to double-team her along with one of his angry friend. How he threw the guys out, closed early, and carried her exhausted and drunken self in his arms to his apartment upstairs.

At that point, she nearly flopped back onto the bed-- _his_ bed--and willed herself back into blissful, sleepy oblivion. Because, unfortunately, she also remembered what happened next: how Wells tried to help her undress before putting her to bed, but apparently she was much more interested in getting his clothes off. How she tried to seduce him but couldn’t even enunciate the word _seduce_ , and how sweet Wells had been by leaving water and aspirin by the bedside before kissing her on the forehead goodnight.

Her cheeks flamed bright red at the embarrassing memory. Quickly she reached for the water now and gulped it down, followed by the pills. Raven gave herself ten minutes to work up the courage--and strength--to get up from the bed, throw her clothes back on, and shuffle into the hall.

The smell of burnt coffee led her to the kitchen. Wells was leaning against the small, chipped counter, sipping from a large mug and reading the paper.

“Morning,” she rasped. She had to resist the urge to smooth down her ruffled ponytail when he looked up at grinned softly at her.

“You’re alive.”

“Physically, yes.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her, and her lips twisted into a wry smile. “My pride might need a little resuscitating. Not my finest moment last night.”

“Oh, you mean the bar fight?”

She snorted at his poorly feigned nonchalance. “Yes, the bar fight.”

His glance darted away from her, and she felt a thrum of wariness go through her. Wells was good at keeping a neutral face. Anyone as successful in customer service as he was had to be, and she knew from watching him that he definitely had honed that skill beautifully. Yet he wasn’t looking at her now. That meant he there was something he wasn’t sure he could keep from her, something big.

She let herself replay the hazy memories from last night again, and again, and again. barely focusing on the way Wells shifted tensely against the counter. Finally, it clicked. “You held me back.”

His gaze snapped to hers. “And you got out of my grip.”

“Shit.” She whistled, sizing him up with new appreciation. _No one_ was as strong as her; that was a perk about having superpowers. And yet--he had been able to hold his own against her immense strength.

Mind racing, Raven yet again recounted the fight, tracking every punch thrown, and then a new bit came to her: one of the guys breaking a bottle and trying to use it on Wells (she had been a little busy bashing a guy’s head against a pole to really register the danger to the bartender at the time). Without thinking, she rushed forward and pulled up Wells’ shirt. Her fingers searched for a wound, but all they found was firm muscle and warm skin.

“No fucking way,” she breathed. She jerked her gaze up to his face to find his eyes twinkling with careful amusement.

“I said the same thing last night when you lifted a guy up. By his neck. With _one hand._ ”

Raven smirked. “So?”

“So,” he murmured, spinning around until she was the one leaning back on the counter and he was boxing her in with his arms. “I’ve never met someone like me.”

“I think the line is _I’ve never met someone quite like_ you, _Raven_ ,” she teased.

Wells leaned in a little closer with a little smile, and she felt her breath catch. “That too.”

Just one little chuckle from him had her surging up to claim a rough kiss. Her hand clasped his face, keeping him close. Immediately his lips parted for her and he tilted his head to both give and take a better taste. Raven hummed happily when his large hands skimmed down her sides, over her ass, and then to the backs of her thighs; that hum turned into a yelp when he hauled her up onto the counter. Wells stepped into her parted thighs, and she could feel his hips pressing into hers. She nipped his lip in retaliation, and he just chuckled again, which sent another wash of heat through her. He kissed her deeply before she could do it another time. Arching forward, she plastered herself to him as his hands slid their way under her shirt. He palmed her lower back, and she slid her fingers up and down his shoulders and chest, reveling in the soft strength there.

Wells used that strength to pick her up again. He walked her to the bedroom, kissing his way down her neck. Raven smiled into his shoulder before he dropped her on the bed.

“Wonder if we’ll break it,” she joked.

Wells crawled up her body--or rather, she might have pulled him up. His smile was broad and bright as he hovered over her for a moment. “Then I’d be out of a decent bed.”

“How unfortunate. Then you might have to come stay in mine.”

“How.” He dropped a kiss onto the corner of her mouth. “Very.” Then the other corner. “Unfortunate.” His weight pressed her into the mattress on the last syllable as he sealed his lips to hers.

It took her breath away, how she was able to get lost in him with just a kiss, a roll of his hips, the brush of his hand. They tangled together on top of the sheets, him over her, out of their clothes, her over him, only breaking apart for a moment to reach into the nightstand drawer. Then he was sliding into her heat as she poured herself into him with a long, dirty kiss.

He lit the spark in her quickly with his slow thrusts, and as she came, she called out his name-- _Wells Wells Wells_. As her walls fluttered around him, he pulsed and then groaned as pleasure washed over him too. She felt him exhale harshly against the heated, damp skin in the crook of her neck, and his breathe sent a warm shiver down her spine.

While their fire had flared to life in a flash, the afterburn was long and slow. Raven closed her eyes and enjoyed the way Wells’ fingers trailed gently up and down the sides of her ribcage. He seemed content not moving, laying on top of her as she rubbed her foot against his calf.

It was only her grumbling stomach that had him dislodging himself.

“The least I could do is take you to lunch,” she teased as she slipped her clothes on for the second time that morning.

“If you insist,” he said with a grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...this has been in my drafts for months without me updating it - I want to keep working on it but I'm lacking inspiration - if you liked it and want me to continue, drop a note? Thanks :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to hawthornewhisperer who gave me the idea to use ALIE as a stand-in for Kilgrave!


End file.
